helter shmelter

I think this thing makes me seem dumber than I am. Like a little girl. A stupid little girl. Fearful and narcissistic. Maybe it's fitting. I haven't said or done anything tasteful in ages. I get angry a lot nowadays. Or I get really smart. Or insensitive. Class A asshole. And I also get very amused with my lousy behavior. I think those gargoyles got me now. The ones I found staring down at me that one night I wailed in the dark, on the floor, singing in between sobs a pathetic song I couldn't even hit the note of. That night I swore they'd never have me on my knees again. Or at the very least, see me on my knees. The difficulty level ranged, soared and sank. Now I feel like I might've plateaued to this dreary and desperate deception. The kind they might be whispering about. The kind that fools no one, but I've convinced myself anyway. I'm embarrassed anyway. Embarrassing myself anyway. Unapologetically graceless anyway.

:(

Thinking about how much I hate everyone and why I hate everyone and how I can stop hating everyone. Should I though? But also half the shit I say to people are lies. The other night a buddy of mine classified me a liar. Slime and cold blood liar. Euthanize me. Put me down. Shut me the fuck up. I should be a ghostwriter for your favorite emo band.

"If I were a piano player, I'd play it in the goddamn closet."

All my words and all, I want us in the closet. And you'll never get us out unless my body was dragged out and you realize none of them mean anything but the means to be clever and a phony.
I always kind of felt like a phony. To put it dully.

Last night

I sat in my bathroom for an hour because there was literally no where for me to sleep. My room has been occupied. The couch was already crashed with Julian. The sunroom has my now second set of parents. I sat in my fucking bathroom and thought about how tired I was. Five in the morning, I stared at the enormous pile of clothes on my floor, literally the biggest pile I've ever piled, and considered sleeping on it.
My insides are withering.

mouthful tales ii

[concrete evidence for mouthful tales]

antsy shit

she swiped my wine from me, my sister. i hadn't been drinking much lately because i decided so. i don't know why, something about my well-being or something. i just wanted some space from my habit. however, tonight, i wanted my wine but my sister swiped it from me. she's been getting well acquainted with my booze, while i'd been getting reacquainted with being stoned. it's just that i've been writing stories lately because i'm too busy not blacking out every single night of the week. i even considered a stack of stories i abandoned all year. really have a handful of potentially great stories. i'm still just getting my hand back. i'm always so determined at the end of the year, it's almost sad. i feel a whole lot better than i did several weeks ago. but i also feel more alone. not that i mind so much. it's inspiring really, being so emotional. but i prefer it over that sort of sloppy depression i so endearingly submerge under. that one is exhausting. this is just idle, 'with flashes of brilliance,' i so confidently said. 

keep your fly down

I realize that I spent most of this week in my car. Those eight grueling hours while we were in dead ass Fairfield changed the game for me. I still don't have my bed to myself. I stay awake till five, or until I find a place to sleep. This, by far, feels like the most exhausting few weeks of my year. I don't want to be bothered. The flies are stalking me again. I'm lifeless and unappealing, but I'm still flyer than you. There's probably something you should know about me, but this way pleases me more.

Phoebe

"Do you find most things depressing?" 

Well yes, I'm depressed. 

cringes

• my family from the Philippines are staying with us indefinitely. 
• i've been sharing my room with my cousin. and by sharing i mean, the first night they arrived, i drank enough to black out and we both ended up sleeping in my room. the rest of the nights, i leave my house to sleep elsewhere because i literally feel like puking having to share my room like that. 
• my house is a ten person household right now, including jsmke. 
• i hope this doesn't last too long. 
• really feel homeless. 

bathroom blackout

not my birthday, not my bathroom blackout.

mouthful tales

One afternoon, Ace and I went to Le Petit Cafe and ate illegal amounts of crepes. After we finished one, we ordered another. And another. And the voids--the black ravenous voids within us could not be satiated.  I think we were meant to be eternally hungry.
One night, we were stoned and driving around. Brilliantly, we thought we should have some pizza. So we went to Little Caesars, ordered our pizza, drove to some unidentified parking lot and ate in the car, in the dark, in silence (apart from our grotesque chewing).
When we were much younger (Ace, Vagger, and I), we used to stay up watching stupid shit on my television, then make an enormous amount of top ramen, add everything in the world as toppings, and slurp peacefully through the night. Those were merely week nights. We called those nights Thanksgiving.
One evening, Ace and Drodan came to my house with clam chowder, bread bowls, and sparkling cider. We watched a movie except we didn't because we all fell asleep.
One late afternoon, Ace and I went to get burritos at some food truck. We sat on some bench and ate happily. Plot twist: we were wearing practically the same outfit that late afternoon, and we looked embarrassingly gay.
This passed summer, Ace and I would attend some party any party, get wasted, she'd drive drunk home, and we'd always drive thru either Taco Bell or Jack in the box. One night, we were guzzling crunchy tacos in the car in the parking lot, had a four hour conversation which involved a lot of drunken idiocy, chewtalking, choketalking, salivating, and crunching. When we finally decided to go home, we blinked back to reality, realized we'd been entranced in yet another vulgar session of eating, and drove away belly-bloated.
Once in San Francisco, we split a burrito. I'm almost certain we both wished we each had our own once we finished our half. Bet my money on it.
In Portland, the first thing we did (Ace, Mak, and I) was get in line for breakfast burritos. We ate peacefully by some building under the sun. It may have been the quietest we'd ever eaten, but after a twelve hour drive from our homeland, a breakfast burrito was the only way to glorify in the moment.

Shit I'm starving.

no one

I hope you never take it out of your wallet. I hope you haven't taken it out of your wallet. I dont know why I'm hoping because really I'm just a sorry ass.